Harry Potrovski
by Bricklifter
Summary: Harry Potrovski is a spoiled little Russian brat, until the day the military picks him up for conscription. He finds out his parents were top-class generals in the Russian army, but were killed by misfired shells from America. Harry now goes to "Forwarts", a respected military academy so that he can avenge his parents' death in the coming war against Capitalism.
1. Intro

This document was found in the archives of a military academy in Russia. It details the progress of Harry Potrovski, a soldier who was prepared along with his peers for an invasion of the US, which thankfully never happened. The FBI raided the academy and took all the teachers and students to be executed in Guantanamo Bay, including Potrovski and his comrades. This document has made public for historical research, and for a good is a testament to communism and why it failed horribly.


	2. Chapter 1: The Boy That Survived

A shell splashed into the ground and several limbs were flying around.

"What in Marx' name was that?" Said Captain Dumbeldov. The military barracks were shattered by the impact, and a huge crater could be seen where Potrovski's office had been.

"I think I'm facing his severed arm right now." Said Hagski. "Shut up Hagski, and look for his wife and the rest of his body." said Dumbledov, while licking some wodka.

An hour later Hagski was finished. Dumbledov was eating some ransom. "She's dead, I think" Said Hagski holding her severed head. Dumbledov was trying to hide his smile. "Now I will be promoted!" he thought.

"And something else" Hagski said. "I found his baby in the wreckage"

Dumbledov was a little shocked by this. "who the hell would bring a baby with him to national security?!".

"I think we need to handle the boy first" Hagski said slightly irritated. "What will happen to him"

"Well, he is strong enough to hold a rifle, I think, so lets send him to a militairy academy."

Hagski protested : "No no. that stupid (he looked around if nobody was eavesdropping) age limit of stalin doesn't allow that. You must wait until you're almost a grown man : you must be 11. That is when i had my first baby!

"Well, I think comrade Stalin is totally awesome" Dumbledov shouted when a general walked by. "Maybe we could let him drive to his uncle and aunt, and that he may wait there until we pick him up for conscription".

"Boys of 1 year old are allowed, but cannot drive a vehicle yet. I will drive him there on my motor...DAMNIT!" he looked to the place where his motorcycle was been, and he just saw a pile of burnt metal. "Well...I'll just take the tank then". Hagski threw Potrovski's son into the tank, Hagski got in, the engine roared, and they went to Potrovski's aunt and uncle, into the sunset.

Harry Potrovski woke up in his luxurious bed in his aunt and uncle's house. he jumped up and looked outside the window. It was a beautyful morning in the beloved motherland. Just seconds after he stood up his aunt Durslov jumped in, made a pirouette and said : "Good morning my oh so beloved country, and good morning nephew."

He ate his breakfast, consisting of water and dry bread ,gleefully. He knew that this unaffordable for most families.

Then his Uncle Vernonov came in. "What is it?" Harry said because he looked rather depressed.

"Nothing" he said while throwing a conscription letter into the hearth.

"Is that a conscription letter?" Harry said uncomfortably.

"Listen dear" His aunt exlamed. "We have to tell you something." When your parents died of COMPLETE NATURAL CAUSES" He paused for a second while breathing heavily. "Private Hagski came threw you through our window. That's why you have that ridiculous scar. He said that in ten years, he would come and pick you up again so you could go to military training. "

"But don't worry Harry. we will just keep burning the letters. and for another security meassure, you will be locked up in the bomb cellar." Said his uncle.

"Don't worry, my little babooshka, we will bring food every day. We just wait until you're too old to be conscripted. When you're 40, you may come out of the cellar and get a real education to be whatever you want, as long as Stalin approves it" His aunt said, trying to be calm.

But it was of no use. A ton of conscription letters later private Hagski showed up, insulted his aunt and uncle for not answering the letters and shattered the door of the cellar with a rocket from his RPG. And Harry saw the daylight again for the first time in many months.

"I don't want to leave!" He screamed as private Hagski dragged him away.

"Your parents would have killed you by now, boy" Hagski said. "After all, they died for this system and would've wanted you to do the same."

"Wait, they were soldiers" Harry gasped. "I thought they died of natural causes!"

Now it was Hagski's turn to look suprised. "Didn't you know? Your parents were very important soldiers in WW II, but an American missile killed them. "

"Why would my aunt and uncle lie to me?" Harry said puzzled.

"They probably wanted you to get an education" Hagski said with utter disgust in his voice. "Stupid people, your guardians. I'm suprised somebody didn't send them to Siberia already. But it's all history now, Harry, because you're going to Forwarts, the best military academy in the history of Mother Russia. But first we need to pick up the requirements, ya know, weapons and stuff. "

They walked to a nearby pub, where everyone was rather intoxicated with magic liquor: Wodka.

"Harry" Hagski said "The secret military shopping mall is located behind this bar, but first _we need a drink!_" Harry looked weird. "But Hagski, I never drank alcohol before."

Everyone in the bar looked shocked, even the unconscious people. "Harry" Hagski said with a tear in his eye. "What have your aunt and uncle done to you?" A few hours later, when everyone had offered Harry bottles of wodka, Harry saw a weird guy twitching and looking around rather paranoid.

"Hagski *hick* chwo is zat guy?" Hagski saw him. "That is captain Squirrel Harry, he was a great private but now he's suffering from shell shock." Harry laughed. Squirrel went to Harry.

"P-P-P-Pottrovski." he said, twitching his limbs. "It's an ho-o-o-o-onor to meet the son of my gene-ne-ne-neral. I'm also your teacher in-in-in-indoctrination."

"Yes...uhh...bye then, comrade." Harry said. he slummed after Hagski to an alley behind the pub. There was nothing but some trash cans and a wall. "Where the heck is the shop?" Harry said.

"It's behind the wall, you just have to blow it up" Hagski said, readying his RPG. A loud bang sounded soon after and the wall exploded. State workers were already building a new one. Harry could now see all the concrete shops.

A while later they went to Olivandrov, the local weapons merchant. "Which gun does the state want me to choose" Harry asked.

"It's different here" Hagski said. "In Soviet Russia, gun chooses you!"

Olivandrov handed Harry a pistol. "This is an m9, 25 centimeters, short range, with a STEEL core!"

Harry took the gun and fired it. It immediately shot out of his hand. Olivandrov caught it and said "Njet, njet, not this one. How 'bout this one, the kalashnikov 47, 1 meter, medium/long range, with a STEEL core?"

The same thing happened multiple times over, until Harry chose an extraordinary weapon, the RPG. Olivandrov went bankrupt soon after he fired his first shot.

"Okay Harry, let's get you a nice bulletproof uniform." said Hagski. they walked to the uniform vendor.

"Is it for the academy, sweetie?" said the old, ugly vendor. "I have everything in stock. we're already busy with someone else." Harry was thrown into a room with concrete walls, and he sat down next to another boy of his age. "Hello". The boy said. "You're going to the academy too?"

"Da." said harry.

"I'm called Malvoiski, and you must be the son of Potrovski? My father served under him as a sergeant."

"Wasn't he cleaning the toilet for my father?" Said Harry. "Hagski told me that Malvoiski was such a bad soldier he couldn't even find the trigger on his gun."

"...Maybe." said Malvoiski. "But now your father is DEAD..." he stopped for a minute to laugh in Harry's face. "...He is now a general, because he killed ten men with his toilet brush."

"Hagski said he gave comrade Stalin a blowjob." said Harry, laughing at Malvoiski.

"That's not true". Malvoiski stuttered. "He was just uhh...cleaning something".

"Anyway." Harry said. "My dad was higher in rank then yours, and you suck!" before malvoiski could reply, the ugly vendor said : "I'm done, dear." Harry looked down and saw a badass uniform with a bulletproof vest, and even a free bootknife in his boots. "Thank you, miss ugly vendor." Harry said.

Suddenly Harry realised something.

"But Hagski" Harry exclaimed "I'll never be able to pay for this!"

"Don't worry Harry, the state will pay the costs." Hagski said, holding his gun tightly. The vendor looked scared.

"Come on let's leave, the panzer express will be leaving shortly."


	3. Chapter 2: The Panzer Express

Harry and private Hagski were marching towards the station. "See that wall there Harry? The Panzer Express is right behind it. All you have to do is run towards it. "

Harry raced towards the wall with his trolley. A loud bang sounded and Harry was lying on the floor, rubbing his head.

"What was that for?" He asked.

"Sorry Harry, it was a test of your obedience to the state. The real Panzer Express is just right over there. " He said as he pointed towards a heavily armored train with some anti-aircraft artillery on top of it.

Harry unloaded his trolley into the baggage track and entered the first coupe he could find. Only there were no coupe's. There was only one room without chairs, and just a radio. there were quite a lot of other comrades of his age.

"IN YOUR FORMATIONS!" a voice boomed from inside the radio. Everyone quickly hurried into formation. "NOW RISE FOR THE ANTHEM!" (CLICK THIS COMRADE! ((youtube) watch/Phq15O )

After 50 minutes of singing the recrutes were allowed to sit down on the ground for a while.

Harry accidently sat on someone's gun. "Don't worry, I have safety lock on" Said the voice of some brown-haired comrade. "My name is private Hermionskiovow. "

Harry responded "LOL I didn't know women could be soldiers"

"WHAT DID YOU SAY THERE RECRUIT?" Said a loud obnoxious voice. Harry looked back and saw a huge, fat recruit with a huge beard.

The boy continued." I am private Nevilov. i am very fat, so what?"

"i didn't even mention you're fat, you fatass." said harry.

"in fact, your manboobs look very sexy" said private Hermionskiovow.

"What department do you think we'll be sorted into?" Said a redheaded guy who was looking very not-cared-for.

"What departments do you mean, comrade Redhead?" said harry.

"It's private redhead for you!" said the guy. "Everybody is equal here remember? Except for Stalin, HE'S AWESOME!" he said when he noticed the state camera's in the corner of the room. "Anyway, the departments are very different from each other. There are four: department 1, department 2, department 3, department 5 and of course, department 4. My whole family is in department 1, and they say department 4 values evil stuff such as freedom of speech and liberty." He shivered.

"Dude, 4 and 1 equals 5 comrade." Hermionovowski said irritatedly.

After 3 weeks of travelling (2 weeks and 6 days of which were spent travelling to Syberia for secrecy reasons), they were finally allowed to step out of the compartment. Harry was relieved, because there had been no toilets and food had been oatmeal (water came from snow they had to melt).

When the Panzer Express stopped, he could see the academy in the distance. He gasped. It was made completely from concrete and dirt. "Sorry, we ran out of concrete. The budget went to the nuclear program" Said private Hagski, and he pointed to some huge rockets in the distance. "Hi Harry, how's it going? " "Awesome" said Harry who was just getting some new underpants.

"Every new recruit, come with me!" Said Hagski. "Get your lazy behinds out of there! You're going with the nuclear submarine. unfortunately, we didn't have money to buy the engine, so you'll have to row." Everyone sat on the top of the submarines and started to row. Some had no paddles, so they had to splash water with their hands.

"Harry you can come with me" Said Hagski, walking towards his tank.

"Hey!" Said Nevilov. "I thought everybody was equal here?"

"They are!" Said Hagski. "But some are more equal than others. "

A while later the survivors had arrived at Forwarts. Inside a concrete hall all the new recruits were drying themselves. A female captain walked into the room and started shouting at the recruits. "IN FORMATION or we'll feed you to Peeves the dancing bear! In a few minutes you'll be sorted into one of the departments, 1, 2, 3, 4 or 5. I hope you'll be in one of the first 4, because 5 are stinky little bastards who never score any points.

"How do we get sorted?" The redheaded guy asked.

"You don't want to know that." The woman responded.

The state allows this story to be continued! (in a few weeks)


	4. Chapter 3: Sorting

Sorry for the delay folks, my co-author quit for a while :/

Harry and his comrades were waiting outside for the sorting. One by one, the privates were called inside to get sorted.

"I hope they don't sort me in department 5." Nevilov said. "My sister was sorted in there and I never saw her again."

"Shut up Nevilov. No one cares!" Said Redhead. But he was looking nervous too.

After a while, private Hermionskiovow was called away. The female captain was still looking angry when she mentioned Nevilov's name. Nevilov tried to escape but was shot in his foot by Hagski, who was still present.

"Well private, that was a very foolish thing to do." The woman said. "But to show just how glorious our system is, you'll get sorted anyway." Nevilov struggled to break free as he was carried inside by two soldiers that could barely carry him. His fat left a huge trail on the floor.

"If anyone of you ever try something like that again, you'll be in Syberia before you can say "Kalashnikov"." The angry captain shouted.

After a few seconds Harry was called inside. Private Hagski wished him luck as he entered a dark concrete tunnel that led to a dark concrete hall. In the hall there were two officers facing a chair with a strange device on top of it.

"Hello private." Said one of the officers. "I'm captain Flitbic. Right here on this chair is a lie detector hat. We'll ask you a few questions and you'll get sorted depending on the answer and whether you lie or not. If you speak the truth, you'll hear a "beep", if not, you'll hear a "boop".

Harry sat down on the chair and the bowlingball-shaped device was attached to his head.

"Okay ask away comrades!" He said, trying to hide his nervousness.

"Question 1: Who is the founder of the Soviet Union?"

"Lenin!" He answered. A beep sounded. Maybe this wasn't that hard after all.

"Question 2: Who wrote the Communist Manifesto?"

"Karl Marx!" (Beep)

"Question 3: What is comrade Stalin's favorite colour?"

This was a hard one. Harry was focused on the trail of fat lying in front of his chair. Suddenly he knew.

"Red!" (Beep)

"Question 4: What do you think of comrade Stalin's policies?"

Suddenly he realised what the lie detector was for. "I think our honorable leader is a great guy because he gave me free weapons and stuff." (Beep)

"Question 5: What do you think of the mass deportation of enemies of the state to Syberia?

"I think it's good as long as the party wants it." (Beep)

"Question 6: Which of these women would you rather sleep with?" Flitbic showed him 2 pictures of women, one (on the left) scarcely dressed in a McDonalds outfit and the other in a woollen coat and a woolly hat with the emblem of the communist party.

Harry tried to concentrate and said: "The right one." (Boop) Flitbic was looking disappointed.

"Question 7: Vampires are scared of which of these 3 symbols?" The other captain, Strupov, showed him 3 symbols (from left to right): A hammer and sicle, a cross and a star of David.

"The left one" (Beep)

"Question 8: Who won the World Soccer Championship in 1952?"

"Russia." (Beep)

"Question 9: What is the ending of the famous fantasy novel "The Lord of the Rings"?"

"Comrade Stalin throws the dirty bourgeois into the volcano." (Beep)

"Question 10: What were Lenin's last words?"

"I think comrade Stalin is totally suit to lead the communist party after I die." (Beep)

"Okay, that was it private. You're in department 1, go join the others at the table."

After walking out of the concrete room he found himself in a great concrete hall lit by cheap lightbulbs. There were 5 tables, each one labled by a banner at the end of it. He joined Hermionskiovow at the department one table.

"Congrats Harry." Said Hermionskiovow. "Nevilov's in here too." She pointed at the private, who was shaving himself. His shaven hair was lying all over the table. "Why do you think the people at table 5 are so silent?" Harry asked.

"Harry stop looking at me." Hermionski said.

"I wasn't even looking!"

"I don't care, you pervert" She said rudely. After a while they were joined by the redhead, whose real name was Ronaldski, and a few other privates like Lavender Red, Yuri Tomasic and Sergei Finigov.

A few minutes later, Private Hagski and the captains came in and closed the doors. Captain Flitbic was putting a Red Army Choir vinyl in a phonograph while private Hagski walked to the front.

"And now comrades, I would like to introduce to you, our headmaster, former teacher of indoctrination and minister of military education." Hagski paused dramatically. All the new privates looked scared, except those that sat at table 5.

"Ivan Dumbledov!"


	5. Chapter 4: Ivan Dumbledov

(Welcome back my friends, Google translate is approved!)

Headmaster Dumbledov walked into the room. Everybody was staring at him, but he acted as though he didn't notice.

He stopped in the middle of the hall to prepare for his speech. Harry could see he had a long white beard, a woolly hat, a bottle of vodka and sunglasses that looked suspiciously western.

"Oh, I didn't see you there." Dumbledov said. Everyone laughed, even though it was the least funny joke Harry had heard since his mother had told him about the Americans celebrating April Fools.

"Hello Comrades!" Called Dumbledov, positioning himself behind the tribune. "I am happy to see that so many of you survived the holidays. Life is tough after all."

"Welcome to Forwarts Military Academy of Guns and Propaganda. Here the conscripted boys and girls of our nation grow up to be the best soldiers in the world. We do not believe in such wimpy nonsense as "human rights" or "freedom of speech". It's tough enough that our privates are allowed to play Ice Hockey every Wednesday. "

Everyone was still paying attention. Flitbic had quickly turned off the phonograph. Even the rats were coming out of the walls and listening.

"Some privates however, have turned their back against our ideals of hard work and asked for "better working conditions" or "airconditioning" and "student councils". I assure you, if you are one of those you'll be in Syberia before you can say "Kalashnikov". "

"That's Gonigov's joke!" Hermionskiovow whispered. Dumbledov didn't seem to hear.

"Last of all, I wish you good luck this year. Oh, and some final announcements: Captain Peter Squirrel is back this year as our indoctrination teacher after his mental therapy and department one will have to clean the Stalin statue this week." He took a sip of his bottle and walked away. Hagski and the other captains were clapping.

"ебать me! Now we have to clean the thing" Nevilov said. The statue was over 20 feet tall, it was located in the back of the great hall.

"Come on, let's eat!" Said private Redhead, helping himself to some oatmeal. Hermionskiovow was eating Spreewald pickles and Yuri Tomasic picked up something Harry was sure was either concrete or food.

"So Dumbledov is in the Party?" Harry asked Sergei Finigov.

"Everyone's in the party comrade!" Said Sergei. "But Dumbledov's really high up, along with Malvoiski's dad and Snapic. Malvoiski is a general, Snapic is minister of Metaphysics. Whatever the ебать that means." Harry nodded and started eating some cornflakes. He suspected that it was not entirly made of cornflakes.

After a few hours everyone started leaving. Harry followed private Redhead, who apparently knew were their room was. When he looked out of the window he could see the huge nuclear rockets in the distance.

After walking up a few stairs the privates arrived in a room which was (surprisingly) made out of concrete. there were some old matresses and sleeping bags and Russian books from older privates. Somewhere in the middle of the room Harry saw a magazine labled "плейбой". At the end of the room there was a banner with the words "Department 1" written on it in red paint.

"Harry!" Private Redhead called. "These are my brothers!"

"Hi comrade." One of the Ronaldski brothers said. "We were just messing with private Wachowski, they ебать-ed with him at the metaphysics room and now he thinks he's in a machine." They pointed to a private in a trenchcoat in the corner of the room.

Harry suddenly noticed a pin-up board on the wall. "Hey, it's our curriculum!" Sergei, Yuri and Nevilov came towards him.

"For tomorrow, 2 hours of aiming practice, 3 hours of care of military vehicles and 2 hours of indoctrination." Nevilov read. "Pretty sweet."

"And we have to clean the statue in the evening remember?" Said Sergei.

"Oh, right." Said Nevilov.

Hermionskiowov walked in. "It really sucks that we have to share bedrooms, I don't feel safe with that thing (she pointed to the magazine) lying in the middle of the room. Will you guys please watch out for me?"

"Don't worry comrade." Harry said slyly. "We'll take care of that. Harry walked away. He looked forward to the time he could fight for this glorious country.

Check in next time for Harry's first day of military training!


	6. Chapter 5: Aiming Practice

Harry woke up on his matress in the Department 1 bedroom. Captain Flitbic was barking orders at the privates.

"But sir, it's 3 in the morning." Said Ronaldski, half asleep.

"I don't care what soft standards you are used to at home, do you want to fight for the motherland or not? And Nevilov, 'No' is not an option. Now get out for your aiming practice!"

Harry slowly crawled off his matress and went to the snow deposit to wash himself. When he and his comrades walked downstairs, they noticed that the door to the great hall was locked.

"What about breakfast?" Sergei said frustratedly. Yuri was still sleepwalking.

"Breakfast will be later." Said Flitbic irritatedly. "Now come with me to the shooting gallery. "

"Sir, which weapons do we use?" Asked Ronaldski?

"You can't use Olivandrov's weapons yet" said Flitbic. "Here's some old AK's, use these instead." He said, pointing to some guns lying in the corner. "Now welcome..."

"Sir what's wrong?" Asked Sergei.

"To the shooting gallery!" Flitbic bellowed. "I was just using dramatic effect, me and Hagski do that sometimes."

Harry stared at the room with his mouth open. It looked like one of these bowling alleys he had seen in those illigal American films his uncle had showed him sometimes, except there were images of American soldiers and presidents instead of pins. Some ammo was lying in the corners, along with a list of rules.

"Read the rules and I'll explain how it works." Said Flitbic. Harry and his comrades gathered around the list.

-Rule 1: The party is always right

-Rule 2: When the party is not right, see rule 1

-Rule 3: Any private that shoots his fellow Russian will be used for target practice.

-Rule 4: The exeption for Rule 3 is shooting people who are used for target practice.

-Rule 5: Anyone who breaks any other rule than Rule 3 will be forced to play poker with the captains.

-Rule 6: Anyone who needs to pee, there is no bathroom, just a little hole near the wall. A real private can controll his flow

-Rule 7: If Peeves the Dancing Bear happens to storm in, don't try to shoot him, run while you still can

-Rule 8: Don't sleep during classes, see Rule 5

"Why would Peeves the Dancing Bear storm in? I mean, it's not like he just runs around the school, right?" Hermionskiovow asked. Flitbic didn't answer.

"Now, you see those filthy capitalists on the wall? Those are your enemies. Since you're all first years, your first lesson is to hit as many of those as possible, preferably in the head. Private Tomasic, why are you sleeping? Get off your lazy ass and grab a gun! Meet me in fromt of my office at 7:30!" Yuri looked confused.

"Also, sometimes you may find that privates are already tied up for target practice. They misbehaved in other classes."

Harry and Ronaldski picked up an AK and started targeting when Snapic strolled in. Behind him was the Department 4 class.

"Here's the shooting gallery, lads." Sneered Snapic. "Flitbic, you take care of these for a while"

Then Snapic walked away, and Harry saw Malvoiski standing with the fourthers. Malvoiski stared at him provocatively until he tripped over the peeing hole in the floor. Flitbic quickly interfered by explaining the rules to the fourthers and pointing to the rule list.

"Malvoiski" Harry whispered as he and Malvoiski's eyes met again.

"Potrovski" Malvoiski whispered back, while unlocking the safety lock on his AK.

Harry did the same, and fired his first shot, aiming at a picture of president Dwight D. Eisenhower. He only hit his left ear.

Malvoiski sneered. He fired his first shot aiming at Nevilov, who had been tied up for target practice because of his inability to controll his flow. The bullet hit the wall right next to his head.

"Wuss" Harry said to Malvoiski.

"Can someone please untie me?" Nevilov pleaded.

For the next 2 hours, Harry and Private Malvoiski tried to impress each other with their shots. Gradually they started becoming better, especially Harry. By the end of the lesson, the picture of Eisenhower had been completely destroyed, along with some other targets in its vicinity. Nevilov miraculously managed to stay alive. Harry shot his last bullet right between what remained of Eisenhowers eyes.

After what seemed way too long, Flitbic finally dismissed the class.

"You can go to breakfast now, kids." He said.

Ronaldski and Harry walked out of the room.

"That Malvoiski kid is such a jerk" Ronaldski said. He almost turned Nevilov into a pile of barbecue sauce."

"He already is a pile of barbecue sauce. But yeah, Malvoiski shouldn't have done that. Not even we would do that to Nevilov."

Flitbic stopped them both at the door. Ronaldski looked scared, but Flitbic seemed to be cheerful.

Those were some good shots, Potrovski. Come to my office at 7:30 with Yuri Tomasic, we'll see if we can make something of it."

Up Next time: How will Harry's other classes go? Will Harry and Yuri Tomasic survive the dreaded poker evening? Will Peeves the Dancing Bear make an appearance? Check back in an unspecified time comrades, and you will see.


	7. Chapter 6: More Classes

Harry and Ronaldski were walking towards the great hall, which was now open.

"You're fucked, comrade." Ronaldski proclaimed. Don't you know what they do at the poker evenings?

"No."

"All sorts of things. Hold'em, drugs, beardancing, Russian Roulette."

"And poker?"

"And poker. And Poker Poker."

"What was that last one?"

"You don't want to know that."

"All right." Harry sighed. "Why do I have to go anyways, I didn't break the rules."

"He probably just doesn't like us, because we stood up for Neville. He wants to have his authority secure."

"I guess."

Once they sat down at their department table, Hermionskiovow came in.

"What's our next class?" She asked.

"Care of Military Vehicles." Answered Harry, while chewing on his cereal. "Hagski teaches it."

"Wait a minute..." Hermionskiovow whispered. Isn't that Trix Cereal? Isn't that for capitalists?"

"I don't know." Harry answered. Ask Gonigov, she'll know. A while later Hermionskiovow returned with Gonigov.

"I don't know where you've heard such ridiculous rumors my privates, but obviously we are not importing cereal from the US. That would make us hypocrites. Now go, it's time for your next class."

Harry and his comrades went through the doors of the concrete building to see Hagski waiting for them.

"All right privates, come with me to... Wait. Where's private Finigov?"

"He's trying to convince captain Flitbic to untie Nevilov before the fourthers shoot him to shreds." Said Yuri Tomasic.

"Good boy." Said Hagski. "Now, follow me privates, it's gonna be a long way."

Hagski and the privates walked towards the garages, where the tanks were stored. They were made out of concrete.

"Now listen, you'll soon be ordered in groups of four and each group tries to handle a tank. And I'm gonna do it, it'll be funnier that way."

"But Hagski." Hermionskiovow asked. "How are we supposed to figure out how to use these? Aren't there any learning methods?"

"Learning methods? Hah! We didn't have those in Stalingrad! Now go join those charming three lads over there, I heard they like you a lot, if you know what I mean. Harry, Ronaldski and Yuri, come with me and let's kick some задница!"Harry and his comrades mounted the tank.

"Now you see comrades, this is a turret. Come inside. This is a button. Pressing the button will activate the turret. Understood?"

"Understood" said Harry, Ronaldski and Yuri. The rest of the class consisted of learning to hit the targets, which were cardboard cutouts of American tanks, and trying not to hit the other tanks (and occasionally trying to hit the other tanks, depending on who was inside). Hagski smiled contently when the class was over.

"I'm glad all of you survived your first time, it ain't always been that way."

Harry and his comrades walked towards the academy. "That class was actually pretty safe!" Ronaldski mentioned.

"Probably because Nevilov wasn't there, he's a trouble magnet." Harry responded. "What's next?"

"Indoctrination." Said Hermionskiovow. "From captain Squirrel."

After a rather eventless meal (save for Gonigov announcing that the cereal had been replaced)the comrades walked towards a concrete room that this time actually looked like a classroom. There were no windows and it was lit by large flourescent tubes. The walls were full of posters of the party and essays on why the party should stay in charge.

Harry and his comrades took a seat in the back of the class when professor Squirrel came in. He was instantly recognizable by his large Sombrero hat.

"Sir, why do you wear that hat?" Yuri asked. "It's not even funny."

"It's to ward of the cap-cap-capitalist mind-controll rays from the US." Said captain Squirrel. "They mess with your brain, you know? Anyways, I'm captain Squirrel, your indoctrination teacher. I'm here to tell you about the glorious history of the mo-mo-motherland and why you should be proud to fi-fi-fight for it. And more. Today we start with a recording of Stalin's birthday party..."

Then Sergei stormed in, carrying Nevilov as well as Nevilov could be carried. "Sir, he needs professional help! He's been shot by Department 4 students on the shooting range."

"Was he tied up?"

"Yes!"

"Then I'm afraid we can't help him."

"Why the ебать not? How is he able to fight for the motherland with this wound in his...(he looked at Nevilov, searching) Body!"

"All right all right, bring him to the metaphysics room, they'll take ca-ca-care of him!"

"The metaphysics room? They'll just ебать him up even more!" Ronaldski said. "Remember what happened to Wachowski?"

"You have no other option." Captain Squirrel said harshly. "The ho-ho-hospital room is being used by Dumbledov for his pedicure. Now get out!"

"What about everybody being equal?" Sergei shouted.

"Your worth to the co-co-communist party is inversely proportionate to the amount of food you consume? Now shut up and leave!"

Sergei carried the moaning Nevilov away, while Squirrel showed a projection of comrade Stalin's birthday party.

"No-no-notice how gracefully Stalin talks about the mass de-de-deportation of enemies of the state my privates. And how well his excess fats are co-co-contained within his military belt.

When the evening fell, Harry and his comrades were allowed to leave the room, and went to the great hall for dinner.

"Well that was a very interesting class." Ronaldski said when Dumbledov happened to walk by. "I surely learnt a lot today."

"Like what?" Hermionskiovow asked.

"Like how to contains your fat in a military belt for example." Said Ronaldski once Dumbledov was gone. "If I ever earn my fat, that is." He added hungrily while watching Snapic eat a roasted pork chop. All he had on his plate was more cornflakes.

"Shame they removed the sugary ones because SOMEONE had to mention it."

"Sexist." Hermionskiovow responded. "Oh and Harry, you're screwed remember? You have to play poker tonight."

Harry's bowels imploded. "ебать me! I'm gonna lose my head for this!"

"Calm down dude." Ronaldski said. "At least you don't have any money to lose."

"I'm sorry comrade, but I'd rather go to war with all of my limbs."

Check back next time for the real poker evening, when the dark secrets of the academy get exposed!


	8. Chapter 7: Pokerface

(WARNING: This chapter is only enjoyable at it's max when you are listening to Lady GaGa's Poker Face)

Harry walked up to Flitbic's concrete office. Flitbic was already standing there with Yuri.

"Ok boys, let's go. Put on this blindfolds now."

"Where the hell are those for?" Yuri asked.

"We can't let you know the location of the Poker Room, it's too important. And don't use Christian terms, or you'll start with the Russian Roulette!"

Yuri looked uneasy. He and Harry were quickly blindfolded by captain Flitbic, who took them down the stairs and into the concrete bunkers below the academy.

When Harry's blindfold was taken from him, he was looking into a massive concrete hall with wooden support pillars ("We ran out of concrete.") and lit by dim fluorescent tubes and fires. There were wooden tables, roulette stands, a bar, and even a couple of caged dancing bears in the back.

"Welcome..."

"Sir, we know where we are." Yuri said to Flitbic.

"To the... All right never mind. Yuri, go to that table with Hagski, Strupov and Snapic, and don't you dare to escape. We have camera security. Harry, you wait here, We've got to play a few games first. Wodski will be arriving soon."

Harry and Flitbic joined Gonigov, Squirrel and Dumbledov at the nearest table.

"...replaced the cereal?" Dumbledov asked Gonigov while feeding his parrot. "These privates are getting brainier every year. Stalin would not approve. Oh, Flitbic and that ugly boy over there can join in already, we just finished. Dealer?" The dealer started shuffling the deack

"So Squirrel, what have you been up to? Has Stalin already been shoehorned in those old Bolshevik photo's?" Asked Dumbledov.

"I was try-try-trying sir, but I don't have much time due the le-lessons. They'll be done next week." He twitched his sombrero nervously.

"They'd better be, my friend, they'd better be. So Flitbic, how are this year's privates doing?" The dealer began handing the cards.

"Not so well, I'm afraid. I had to tie a Department 1 student up in their first class. There are exceptions though." He said, nodding to Harry and taking his cards. The rest grabbed their cards as well

Dumbledov merely chuckled. "Those silly Oners! I hope he survived." He said, analyzing his hand. "I'm raising with 10 rubles. Are you in?"

Gonigov tossed the chips on the pot. Squirrel folded. Flitbic called. The dealer revealed the first 3 cards: An ace of clubs, a four of hearts and a 6 of spades.

Dumbledov's face was as unreadable as chinese writing at midnight. Gonigov and Flitbic both raised with another 20 rubles, with Dumbledov calling. Even his parrot had a straight lace. They all checked next, and the dealer turned the fourth card: A king of hearts.

Gonigov folded, but Flitbic seemed determined to win. "Let's raise another 50 rubles." He said smugly. Dumbledov, still wearing his pokerface, threw 100 rubles worth of chips at the table instead. Flitbic was not impressed, even though Harry saw that his hand was not that valuable; He was bluffing. They continued raising, until Flitbic had enough. "I'll raise with Harry!" He roared. Harry felt his stomach grow cold. He looked at Flitbic in shock. He thought about running away, but then he remembered the security cameras and harsh punishments. He would wait instead.

Dumbledov showed no emotion whatsoever. "Fine. I'll raise with Felix." He put down his parrot in the pot.

"Dealer, the last card please!" Flitbic looked in anticipation. It was a 4 of clubs.

"Hah! Four of a kind, you cocksucker!" Flitbic threw his hand on the table and started ordering it so the combination could be seen. Dumbledore however showed his cards; 2 aces and 3 kings.

Flitbic gaped at the cards, looking utterly devastated. Dumbledore's pokerface was gone now: He was smirking. "Here's a few rubles for a beer. Have fun!" Flitbic slowly walked away, his mouth still open.

Dumbledov turned to Harry. "Well comrade, it seems you're my property now! But don't worry, we're all property of the state." He started feeding his parrot again. "Some just a little more than others. Since you're my property now, you have to do me a service."

Harry looked confused. "But sir…"

"I suggest you clean the tables first." Said Dumbledov, _accidentally_ spilling his glass. "I have business to attend to."

Cursing under his breath, Harry started to clean the table. "Don't worry, boy." Said Gonigov. "He's just drunk."

While cleaning the table, Harry saw a man in a black smoking and bow tie come in and order a drink.

"A martini. Shaken, not stirred." He said with a foreign accent. In his right hand he held a 9mm pistol 45, in his left the martini he had just ordered. Then Dumbledov saw him.

"Da!" Cried Dumbledov. "You must be the Brit they sent! What's your name?"

"Tuxedo. Martin Tuxedo. I suggest we talk somewhere else, before the ladies get involved." They walked towards one of the concrete hallways. Harry, who was still pissed at Dumbledov and didn't mind knowing his secrets, followed.

"So, about object X. The NATO ordered to stop it. Nothing of the sort has happened." Said Martin.

"Object X? You mean the bomb?"

"The philosopher's bomb, of course. Quite a _radiant _plan, apparently."

"Well, it's still in production. Your capitalist organisation won't stop that."

"You're not a very integer man, mister Dumbledov. Manipulating the outcome of the roulette."

"Ah, but as comrade Lenin said: 'Sometimes, history needs a push.'"

"You Russians are so… _cold_."

"Quit it." Said Dumbledov. "We're not stopping, that's it! We're not letting you silly Brits bomb the shit out of us."

"Then just use the toilet. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to do some _secret services_ in my bedroom." And with that he walked off into the room.

"Weirdo." Whispered Dumbledov. Then he spotted Harry.

"You were supposed to clean the tables, you curious brat. I'm afraid we'll have to play Russian roulette now…"

"Ivan." Said someone behind Harry.

"Yes?" Dumbledore looked up at her, it was Gonigov.

"Don't do it, he's been invited by Wodski. Remember last year's privates?"

"Oh yes I do…" Whispered Dumbledov. He looked at Harry again.

"You got lucky this time private, but never interfere with state business again. Like, ever.

"Yes headmaster." Said Harry. Then he sprinted away towards the bar, where he saw Flitbic, who was red from drinking away his losses, and Yuri, who was all bruised and battered.

"Hawwy!" He said Flitbic.

"Hi." He said back. "Yuri, what happened?"

"I had to play poker poker with Snapic. My hand was full of shit."

"I feel for you comrade", said Harry, seating himself next to Yuri.

Yuri moaned. "Snabic is a f*cking yebat!"

"Hawwy!" said Flitbic again. "Wodski is here!" He pointed to an older private next to him.

The private smiled. "Are you Harry or is he just drunk?"

"Probably both." Said Harry.

"Well congratulations, you've been invited to the Marksmanship Club."


	9. Chapter 8: Potatoes and Muffins

"What is the Marksmanship Club?" Hermionskiovow asked Harry. He had just come back, and they were in the Department 1 room.

"Well duh, it's a our departments group of marksmen that compete against the other departments. My first training will be tomorrow."

"Sweet." said Ronaldski. "Why doesn't that stuff happen to me?"

"Because you're a supporting character, Ronaldski."

Ronaldski frowned. "What?"

"Never mind." Harry replied. "So that was our first day. What did you guys think of it?"

"It sucked!" moaned Yuri, who was still recovering from the poker evening.

"Erm, Harry..." Hermionskiovow whispered. "I don't think the party wants us to have an opinion on things like this."

"She's right Harry. Captain Gonigov says having an opinion is bad for your blood pressure and gives you a higher chance of chronic illnesses. Enjoy the good, endure the bad, that is all." Said Yuri as well as he could.

"I hope Nevilov's okay though." said Ronaldski. "After what happened to the rest of those people..."

"What do you mean?" asked Hermionskiovow.

"Well, private Wachowski thinks he's in a machine, private Manilow got teleported to who knows where, and private Gorbachev suddenly believes in progressive ideals! I'm telling you, that guy won't archieve anything!"

Sergei came in. "Hey Sergei!" said Harry. "How's Nevilov doing?"

"No idea, he's still in the room." replied Sergei. "Poor guy. You'd almost feel sorry for him." Then he saw Yuri Tomasic.

"What the ебать happened to you? " he asked.

"Poker Poker. Yesterday night. With Strupov and Snapic."

"I feel for you comrade." He started talking to Yuri, leaving the other three privates free.

"I wonder what happened to Nevilov though." said Hermionskiovow.

"I'd not worry about him now. You have your own concerns." said an older private. It was one of Ronaldski's brothers, Georg Ronaldski.

"What do you mean?" asked Harry.

"Tomorrow you have your first lesson from Snapic. He suffer newbies poorly."

"What do you mean?" asked Ronaldski (the younger).

"Well, he once made a student eat his own… Yeah never mind."

"What does he teach anyway?"

"You'll see…" smirked Georg.

"Anyway…" said Harry when Georg was gone. "So I was at the poker evening yesterday, and Dumbledov was talking to some British guy about the nuclear program."

"What did he say?" Asked Ronaldski, eyes closed on his matress.

"That there was some sort of bomb that the UN wants us to stop producing. The 'Philosopher's Bomb' they called it."

"Seriously?" said Hermionskiovow.

"Yeah."

"I hope it's really worth it because the nuclear program is taking all of the budget. These nukes are really powerful, you know, on a political level as well. If the US fires one, the entire academy is lost.

"Then why don't they do it?" asked Harry.

"Because, we have nukes too. And don't think I didn't notice that innuendo you sexist!"

"What?" asked Harry in confusion. Hermionskovow ignored him.

"Also, the huge cost of the nuclear program is probably why they changed the food."

"Yeah, right." commented Ronaldski.

"But it's their decision anyways." hushed Hermionskiovow. "Anyone know any good jokes? Wait, I got one. Before the revolution, a jew comes in at the Russian Patriot headquarters. He asks 'Is it true that the jews sold Russia out?' The info guy answers 'Damn right, you fucking kyke!' Then the jew responds:'Good, because I want to know where I can get my share.' "

Harry chuckled, but his mind was elsewhere. He thought of the bomb, and how powerful it probably was. Then he heard Ronaldski.

"Comrade, get some sleep. Tomorrow, we'll have to rise early again."

"Okay comrade, see you tomorrow." Harry yawned.

At 4:30 Captain Strupov stormed in and woke the privates with a grenade she threw out of the window. "OFF TO YOUR CLASS, YOU LAZY BASTARDS, SNAPIC IS WAITING BELOW!"

"But captain…" asked Hermionskiovow half asleep. "Don't we have aiming lessons?"

"CAPTAIN FLITBIC IS STILL HUNGOVER FROM LAST NIGHT, SO THOSE HAVE BEEN POSTPONED! NOW GO!"

Harry and his comrades slowly dragged themselves behind Gonigov, and to the lower chambers of Forwarts. Not all privates made it; some fell asleep on the way. It did not end well for them.

After a while Strupov stopped in a long concrete hallway. She pointed to a door. "THIS WAY PRIVATES!"

Harry and Sergei were the first to enter. When they looked around, they realised that this classroom was probably the strangest they had seen yet. There was firewood in the back of the class, and there were no tables, only cupboards that more or less resembled tables. It was also brighter lit (with fluorescent tubes, of course) than the rest of the classrooms. Harry took a comfortable (by the schools standards, which meant it was a wooden cube instead of a concrete one) chair next to Ronaldski and waited for the rest of the class to come in.

When the class was seated, the Department 4 privates (fourthers) came in. Harry and Malvoiski began staring at each other, until Ronaldski whispered to Harry that he was twitching. He quickly turned around to face the desk in front of the classroom.

Captain Snapic came in. He had a woolly black coat, greasy black hair and a goatee. Harry had never seen him smile.

"So little privates of Department 4 and whatever other department there is today, you probably already know that I am Captain Snapic, and that I am also the minister of Metaphysics. This is an important job and I spend most of my time working on projects. That is, when I am not teaching you lazy bastards the ancient and noble craft of cooking."

There was a long, painfully tense silence. Then a private spoke.

"Why would we need cooking in our curriculum?" Asked Hermionskiovow. "Doesn't the army have cooks?"

"Yes, but it is expected of you to be able to get food on your own in dangerous situations, if you are isolated from your army." Snapic said in a tired voice. "And if any of you speak up like that again, I'll make you try one of my special recipes." He continued.

"Today we start with… Potato Co…"

"When do we learn bacon?" asked Sergei enthousiastically.

"Why does everybody always ask about чертов bacon?! 50 push-ups for you private! For the rest of you, the ingredients and books are in the back room. And don't be lazy, or you know what'll happen…"

The rest of the class consisted of peeling, chopping, and cooking some leftover potatoes. Harry and Ronaldski worked hard and valiant, like real proletarians, and the rest of their department did so as well.

At the end of class Snapic began investigating the boiled potatoes.

"Very… good, private Malvoiski. Those are some potatoes worthy of the Spetsnaz!"

He turned to Sergei and Yuri.

"What are those black things in your saucepan, private Tomasic?'

"But sir, yesterday… Remember the poker?"

"50 push-ups for each of you lazy bastards!" He commanded with his sarcastic, monotone voice.

Next, he came to Harry and Ronaldski.

"Are those your potatoes?"

"Yes."

"70 push-ups."

Harry felt his blood boil with hatred towards Snapic, but he had no choice but to obey. Soon after they were allowed to leave.

"That was it privates. I hope some of you… bring their brains before they walk into my classroom next time." remarked Snapic.

"What's our next class?" asked Ronaldski, gasping for breath, once they were outside.

"More indoctrination." said Hermionskiovow. After heaving another delicious (according to Sergei at least, when Dumbledov was walking by) breakfast, the comrades walked up to the indoctrination classroom once more.

Once they were seated, Captain Squirrel came in, twitching his sombrero.

"I know that la-la-last lesson we were talking about Stalin's birthday, but I have important new ma-ma-material to discuss: another capitalist conspiracy." Harry had never seen him so nervous or excited.

"You se-se-see, blueberry muffins are part of a capitalist plot to po-po-poison the proletariat. You see, the American proletariat could just eat regular blu-blueberries, but instead they have to be coated by su-sugar, which increases the health insurance…"

By the time Harry woke up, it was about noon, and the afternoon was conveniently free to do see if the marksmanship club was open.

(Until next time, comrades! By the way, the joke about the jew is a real Russian joke: The jew is called Rabinovic. Sorry if I offended any of you, I was just trying to be authentic and funny :P. And sorry for the long downtime, I was in Munich for school reasons. And yes, Ronaldski and Hermionskiovow are both last names.)


	10. Chapter 9: Wodski

(Welcome back comrades!)

"Oh guys, it's Harry, he's here already." Said Wodski. He and the Ronaldski brothers were the only ones that were at the Marksmanship Club as of yet.

"Hi there." Harry responded shyly. "So… How do we train, usually?"

"Well, we have different categories for guns… Seeing as your weapon from Olivandrov is too heavy, and Flitbic trained you with an AK, we think you should do AK. There's 2 AK's, 2 snipers and 2 pistols. The Ronaldski brothers handle the snipers, a couple of babooshkas from year 4 do the pistols and you and me handle the AK."

"Sounds cool, but am I not a bit too young to be in this team?"

"Well, actually, you're our youngest member in 100 years." Georg Ronaldski said.

Harry stood there flabbergasted. Was he really that important?

"Nah, just kidding." Fedya Ronaldski chuckled. "We've had 8 year old boys in here. Some aims are just a lot better than others"

"Not funny man." Harry responded, embarrased. "So how do we train?"

"Well, actually we'd need you to pass an initiation test first, but after what happened last year, you're the only candidate." Wodski explained.

"Well, what happened last year?" Harry asked.

All three boys looked uneasy. Finally Wodski spoke: "That's a state secret, it never happened, ok?"

He continued: "Come with me!" and walked with Harry and the Ronaldski brothers to the Department 1 shooting range, which was below the first floor of the academy.

"Why is it so deep?" asked Harry.

"Well, out old shooting range was outside, until Snapic 'accidentally' destroyed it with grenades. He claimed he was drunk." Said Wodski bitterly. "And stop asking questions, the teachers don't appreciate that."

After what Harry felt was way too many stairs, they walked into the new shooting range. It looked a lot like Flitbic's shooting gallery, but there were red flags, photographs of old members, (very) old copper trophies and targets of varying distances. The Ronaldski brothers were already practicing with their snipers.

"Let me explain the game, Harry." Wodski began, walking towards the AK-targets. "During the real competition, each target consists fo 3 target rings: 10 points, 20 points and 30 points. You want to go for the 30, of course. Then, the score of each team member is added and the maximum score is compared to that of the other team. Highest score wins."

"Sounds simple enough." Said Harry relieved. He turned to an AK target, where he saw Snapic's head with the target rings drawn on it.

"We won't get into trouble for this, will we?" Said Harry, pointing towards the target."

"Nah." Said Wodski. "As long as they're from the opposing departments, Gonigov thinks it's fine. Now shut up and show me your aim."

Harry took an AK from a weapon stand, loaded it and started aiming. Suddenly he felt his nerves, and he tried to keep concentrated.

"Don't hold the trigger for too long, or you'll wast our ammo." Remarked Wodski.

Finally, Harry fired a few shots. He checked the target. Most of the bullets were in the 10-ring, with a few in the 20-ring.

"C'mon, you can do better than that. Again!"

Harry aimed again. His hands felt too sweaty. He fired; This time they were all either in the 10-ring or outside.

After letting Harry repeat the procedure several times, Wodski came out and said:"Not bad, but this is not gonna work. Go and sit there for a while." He pointed to a bench in the back of the hall."

"Harry stepped away from the range and sat down. This was a lot harder than he expected, he might get thrown out just as quick as he was thrown in. He rubbed his hands against the wall when he noticed they were still sweaty. This was gonna suck.

After a while, Wodski came back and put his gun back in his rack. "Your aim is too unsteady, you'll need to work on that. "Also, your hands are sweaty." He said, pointing to the concrete wall. "Wipe then clean and start again."

"Wipe them clean with what?" Harry asked

"Be creative." Wodski smirked. Then he walked towards Fedya and Georg, presumably to get them to train again.

"Yes captain." Harry mumbled.

"And don't call me captain, I'm TEAM captain. But you can call me Ole."

After wiping his hands and aiming at Snapic several times, Harry saw Wodski come back.

"Any improvement comrade?"

"Yeah, more or less." Said Harry quickly.

After he had showed Wodski some more of his shots, Wodski sighed. "Comrade, you're just too insecure for this now. You need to practice and relax, or else this isn't going to work.

Harry felt ill. "Can I still stay."

Wodski shrugged. "Well… Yeah. I know you can do it. And besides, we're not really high on replacements right now."

Harry let loose a sigh relief.

"That was enough for today." Wodski said, in a more emotionless voice. "I expect you again next week. This place is open from 3 PM every day, so please, use the opportunity to practice."

"Ehm sorry Captain, but I don't have a lot of spare time right now." Harry said, remembering his timetable. "When am I supposed to train when my timetable is overflowing?"

"Be creative." Wodski responded again. "Now go, you'll need some sleep. Believe me."

A few minutes later Fedya and Georg Ronaldski, who were out of ammo, walked up to Wodski and spoke up.

"My hands suck today." Remarked Fedya. "If only I would've had time to thaw them out after Strupov ordered me to plant all those чертов landmines.

"By the way, how is that boy supposed to train anyway?" Said Georg.

"No idea." Responded Wodski. "That's why I always keep my advice vague."

"Well, he'd better do it!" Said Fedya, reloading his gun. "He's the only one we have as of now. Flitbic the rest was pretty subpar, bad even. Today's youngsters are so spoiled."

Harry walked towards the Department 1 room, where most privates were already trying to sleep, knowing that the mornings were early and the days long. "Redhead" Ronaldski was snoring, Hermionskiovow was talking to Yuri, who was visibly irritated, and Sergei was trying to sleep when he saw Harry.

"Harry man, how was it?" He asked.

"Well, it was ok I guess, but I'll need to practice a lot more."

Sergei frowned. "That's impossible. Why don't you just quit?"

Harry sighed. "For the Department man! I can't just let our get curbstombed just because some silly personal problems."

"Don't they have replacements?"

Harry explained that that was part of the problem: He was the only candidate as of now. After a little more conversation he fell asleep, only to be woken up next morning for another round of shooting. And after that, another. The days followed each other fast, going through the usual classes and occasionally trying to practice on the shooting range. Nevilov was still gone, and gradually people began to forget about his antics, though there were still many wild speculations of what had happened to him. Harry had almost adapted to his new life when, on the 31st of October, (which is totally insignificant) Captain Squirrel ran into the great hall and screamed: "PEEVES THE DANCING BEAR IS LOOSE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES AND COUNTRY!"

(That's it comrades. Sorry for taking so long to write, I'm a lazy bastard sometimes. I'll at least cover the first 2 books with this fic, after that we'll see.)


End file.
